


The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

by GaryTheFish



Series: Hope is a Four Letter Word [46]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Holidays, Loki - Canon Divergence, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8171987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaryTheFish/pseuds/GaryTheFish
Summary: Celebrations, reunions and traditions: containing plane trips, mistletoe, baked goods, a superspy and two Norse gods trying to figure out the other side of the Winter Solstice.





	1. Chapter 1

They spent a large part of the afternoon working through the massive stack of papers Aeslin had brought home from her office at the university. The semester-end project she’d assigned had been for her students to choose one concept that had interested them and to write on it, expanding it however they pleased. Loki found many of them quite intriguing, often reading the ones that Aeslin graded after she was done, as well. He pulled the top paper from her finished stack as he deposited the one he’d just finished onto the smaller pile; the ungraded paper was liberally festooned with sticky notes on grammar corrections and the bits he thought she’d like best. She glanced up from the other end of the couch as she stretched, draping her legs across his. He merely smiled back, crossing his ankles on the ottoman and balancing the paper on her shins. Selecting a treat from the bowl on the end table, he set about reading.

He was only a few paragraphs in before he sighed and took the candy cane from his mouth. “The horse? Again? How many of your students wrote about this, anyway?”

“A few,” she admitted, making a marginal note in purple ink on the page she was reading. “The section on ethnographies and folklore was pretty well received, and a lot of them were already familiar with the legend.”

“Rumor,” he clarified, pointing his candy cane at her. “Blatantly _false_ rumor, might I add.”

“Which is how all the best legends get started,” she replied with a shrug. “Hand me one of those, would you?”

Loki plucked one from the bowl and passed it over; she took with a grin and her thanks. “Besides,” she went on as she peeled off the wrapping, “you should give that one a chance. He uses the bones of the legend as a stepping stone to exploring gender fluidity and the nature of identity. I don’t know that archaeology is the best place for Mister Kendrick; I won’t kick him out, by any stretch, but he would raise merry _hell_ in Folklore or Philosophy. I’d pay good money to watch him do it, too.”

“I thought teachers weren’t supposed to have favorites.”

“I don’t,” she said breezily. “Completely unbiased. Without feeling. A mere automaton in a greater machine, but even a robot knows greatness when she sees it, and if that kid gets what he needs, he is _going_ places.” She looked over at the clock. “Speaking of which, were you going to call Parker back, or did you want me to?”

“It’s a holiday, love,” he said. “I won’t make you talk on the phone on your day off. That’s just unkind.”

She tucked her feet back under her as he left to the couch to go find his phone. “You spoil me,” she told him, and he grinned.

“That’s not what we call it where _I_ come from,” he said with a lascivious wink.

A faint, knowing laugh as she went back to the paper she was grading, and he flopped back onto the cushions, phone in hand. It was late enough that Parker would likely be up; if not, it would serve him right for all the times he’d forgotten the time difference and called at three in the morning.

He picked up on the second ring, as he did with regularity. “Hey, man,” he said.

“Afternoon,” Loki replied. “To what did I owe the pleasure of a phone call entirely too early this morning? We were a little worried when you called her phone, too, but since you didn’t leave a message and there were no frantic emails from anyone else, we thought we’d be decent and let you sleep.”

There was a brief pause. “I may have forgotten again.”

Loki chuckled. “May have.”

“Eight hours ahead. It’s bad enough that I have to remember that my parents are three hours in front of me these days. It goes both ways, though; I cannot _tell_ you the number of phone calls I’ve gotten from my dad’s back pocket at four-thirty in the morning. Every Wednesday, breakfast at Nelly’s with the boys, and I can tell you exactly what they order in the two minutes before my dad realizes what’s happened and goes ‘well, son of a gu-’ and hangs up on me. It’s almost a tradition now.”

“Can’t im _a_ gine what that must be like,” Loki said, rolling his eyes as he looked over to Aeslin; she was deep into the next paper, concentrating as she idly toyed with the candy cane in her mouth. He found himself suddenly and inordinately entranced. “Have you considered that maybe he’s doing it on purpose by now?” he asked in a distant sort of way.

“I pretty much know he is,” came the reply. “He got sick about a month ago, so he called ahead and had his friend Mike do it instead. Picked it up the next week like nothing had happened. He thinks he’s hilarious.”

“Mmhmm.” She really was getting _quite_ distracting, and he reached over and carefully twisted the peppermint stick from her lips; the confusion in her face said that she’d been completely engrossed in paper she’d been grading and hadn’t realized what she was doing. He wrapped it back in the plastic with a gentle shake of his head, balancing it across the top of the cup on the end table near his elbow. Realization painted her face, and she smothered a laugh.

 _Your own fault_ , he mouthed silently, then turned his attention back to Parker.

“-calling to check and see if everything’s still on,” Parker was saying.

“Why should it matter if-” Loki brought himself into focus with some effort. He stood, strolling over to look out the windows that stretched across the wall of the dining room. “Oh. For Jul. Right. Yes. It’s all in order. Tickets purchased, transportation arranged, everything’s fine on this end. She’s just got to finish papers, give her final, turn in grades. Right on schedule. What about you?”

“What did she decide?”

“Multiple choice. Apparently she’s tormented them quite enough for one semester, though after reading some of their papers, I would argue that it wasn’t _nearly_ as much as she should have.”

“Grammar?” Parker’s voice was sympathetic.

“Atrocious,” he confirmed, “and don’t even get me _started_ on the overuse of inappropriate idioms.”

“Well, we can’t all be the God of Gerunds. Sometimes you’ve just got to let that participle dangle, man.”

A wince as he glanced back to the couch where she was still working, worrying her lip between her teeth, flipping her pen between agile fingers and seemingly oblivious to everything else going on around her. “You’re not helping, you know.”

“Helping what?”

Loki sighed, not sure which of the two he was actually talking to. “Nothing. What about your side of things?”

“Have we got an itinerary for _you_ , my good man,” replied the biologist with a grin Loki could hear through the phone. “Tickets to _The Nutcracker_ , time set aside for making cookies and decorating the tree, maybe caroling if Tony gets drunk enough to remember the words. Also a few game nights in there for good measure, plus I almost guarantee we’re going to have some extras. Nat’s been dropping hints like crazy. Super spy my _ass_. You can read her like a takeout menu these days; she’s planning to make kolaches.” A snicker. “I’ll just let that sink in for a moment. One of the finest assassins the world has ever seen is going to make pastries for us. Tony’s already got her apron. It involves black Kevlar ruffles and several hidden pockets. Seriously. Master assassin baked goods. Clint is _stoked_. She’s only made them for him once, right after Budapest. He says we should feel honored.”

“We should,” Loki replied. “We’re her family.”

There was a brief pause. “Yeah,” Parker said thoughtfully  after a moment. “I guess we are.”

“Take a good look around you the next time we’ve got a fully staffed game night,” Loki observed. “We’ve got more orphans on our roster than most Victorian novels. It’s not just her; it just goes to show that family’s what you make of it. ”

“Are you counting yourself on that team these days?”

He thought back to his meeting with Frigga on the beaches of Malibu, sitting on the porch and blithely sharing ice cream sandwiches with the Queen of Asgard. “Single parent household,” he finally confessed.

“Good,” said Parker. “That’s really good.”

***

Their final day in London before the flight back to Malibu was busy; he spent most of it carefully packing his gifts, tucking in basics where he found room. Tony would have anything he needed, of that he was sure. He packed a carry-on with a change or two of clothes, left his suitcases near the door and caught a cab to his meeting with Bolingbroke. One copy of _Burke’s Peerage_ , simply bound in black leather with a hand-painted coat of arms inscribed on the base of the spine, as well as a more elaborate copy of _Through The Looking-Glass_ for the man’s daughter.

Bolingbroke ran his fingers over the cover of the Carroll book, with its inset mirrors and iridescent, deep green leather mimicking the creature spoken of within. Loki allowed him to peruse, sipping his tea and listening to the mantel clock tick in the silence.

“Remarkable,” said the older man, running a hand along the spine; he chuckled a bit. “You’re sure this isn’t real dragonscale?”

Visions of Muspelheim’s glittering fire wyrms flitted through his mind. _Don’t I wish_. He put his cup back into its delicate saucer with a rueful smile. “If only,” he replied with a smooth laugh.

“More incredible than I hoped for,” Bolingbroke went on as he slid the book back into its protective cover and placed it gently into the box. “She’ll love it, and if she has her way, I daresay you’ll have another commission next year for her birthday, not to mention one in the summer for her brother’s graduation gift. If you have cards, I’ll gladly pass them on my colleagues, as well. These are both truly extraordinary pieces.”

A slight dip of his head. “Thank you,” Loki said, reaching into his breast pocket and extracting several business cards. He handed them to Bolingbroke, who slipped them into the folder that accompanied the books; it also contained a copy of the contract, design schematics and care information, among other things. In turn, he handed an envelope to Loki, who tucked it into his inner pocket without bothering to look.

“Plans for the holiday?” Bolingbroke asked as he walked him to the door of his well-appointed London townhome.

“Southern California,” Loki told him, pulling on his coat and scarf against the soggy London morning. “Malibu, actually.”

A knowing grin. “Ah. Warm sun, sand, forget this ugly weather of ours, hmm?”

“If we have time, I suppose,” he replied, smiling at the other man, “but we’re really just going to see family.”

***

He stopped at the bank, dodging fog and raindrops; he had barely made it back home and was searching for a quick snack before leaving for the airport when she burst through the front door.

“Free!” she crowed, flinging her arms into the air.

“And with almost an hour to spare,” he replied with a grin while she sashayed past him, pulling him down for a kiss as she went by. “Well done.”

“Would have been sooner,” she said, her voice muffled as she rummaged through the cupboards, “but there were carolers at the station. It slowed things down a bit. Not in a bad way, mind you, but it just makes me think we might want to leave sooner rather than later.” She pulled her head from the cupboard. “Besides, there doesn’t seem to be much in the way of lunch around here.”

“That’s what we get for cleaning out the fridge before vacation.”

“True enough. You packed?”

“Have been for ages,” he admitted. “I’m very much looking forward to this. Parker told me about Nat’s plans; he’s sure she’s coming, which means Barton will also probably show up at some point. Hints about others, too.”

“Excellent.” She gave up her search for anything edible and went to the back room to retrieve her already-packed cases.

“Did you have to fail anyone?” he asked her retreating back. “I know you were worried about it.”

“Only five out of all three classes, and since one was a lecture section, that’s really pretty good.” Her voice trickled from the master bedroom, where he heard her tossing a few last-minute things into her bags. “None of them responded to my emails or anything else, so all I can say is that I did my best.”

“All anyone can ask for.”

She returned from the back of the house. “I guess,” she said, and he lifted her chin.

“Cheer up, little one,” he said. “You did well. _More_ than well, as I’m sure your evaluations will tell you once we’ve returned. It’s time for some well-earned rest.”

Aeslin smirked in response as they locked the door behind them. “With our family? You’re assuming we’re going to _get_ sleep.” She grinned up at him as she slipped an arm around his waist, beneath his jacket to warm her hand. “Don’t get me wrong. I haven’t been this excited for Christmas and New Year’s since the winter Phil broke me out of headquarters and smuggled me home to Wisconsin for the holidays. I just smell an _awful_ lot of caffeine in my future.”

***

Heathrow swirled with people, and, as predicted, it took them quite some time to get settled. They grabbed lunch and ensconced themselves in the waiting area until it was time to board their flight, playing card games and chatting with the other passengers. Most were headed to see family for the holiday; a few were on business trips.

The flight seemed longer than the one out had; Aeslin wiggled her fingers and told him in a spectral voice that it was because they were going _back in time_. They hadn’t opted for first-class this time around; it was a little cramped, but Loki almost liked it better, close as she was to him, and he gladly gave up a bit of leg room for the long flight. They stayed awake as best they could, fighting the London time they were accustomed to so they could hit the ground running in Malibu. She gave up about halfway through, however; worn by the long hours of teaching and the final push of the semester, she fell asleep for an hour or so, head against his shoulder. He thought back to a similar situation, on the flight from Iceland to New York, and he smiled a little at the memory. And then, as if on cue, she began, very faintly, to snore.

***

LAX was almost as crowded, but they were able to work their way through customs rapidly. Aeslin had texted Parker when they landed, and he had confirmed that he would be there to pick them up. They wove their way through the masses of people toward the pickup spot; Loki kept her tucked close behind him, barely noticing the way the crowds almost automatically parted in front of him. They stood together for a moment as Loki scanned the faces for Parker’s.

“I wonder if he-” Aeslin began, but was immediately cut off by a bellow, and Loki turned to see a very familiar blond figure waving as he ever-so-politely bullied his way closer.

“ _Brother_!”

Loki braced himself as Thor smashed into him, clapping him on the back as he did so. Loki returned the hug as best he could with one hand still on his suitcase and the other arm trapped beneath Thor’s bicep.

“What’s all this?” he asked, and Thor grinned in response as he moved on to Aeslin, sweeping her easily off her feet and into a hug. He deposited her back on the ground, allowing Parker to come forward at last.

“A surprise!” he said, extending his arms and nearly taking out a small family; he apologized rapidly, then his face took on a bit of a curious look as he turned back to Loki. “A good one, I hope?”

“We weren’t expecting you,” Loki admitted, “but yes. This is a _wonderful_ surprise. I hadn’t expected to see you again so soon. It will be good to celebrate Jul again together, or at least as best we can on this world.”

“Exactly my thought.” Thor squeezed his shoulder. “I’ve brought some things from home for the celebration.” He glanced over at Parker, clearly continuing an earlier conversation. “And if they can _handle_ it, perhaps we’ll even share.”

A laugh as they made their way into the clear December sun. “A solid plan.” Loki gestured to Thor’s clothing. “But I also meant this.”

Thor’s sweeping bow took in the hoodie, jeans and t-shirt he wore; his hair was bound back in a slightly messy ponytail. He all but preened at Loki. “What do you think? Joshua was kind enough to help me pick it out after determining that showing up in my full armor at an airport might not be a good idea.  It’s my ISSP.” Another look at Parker, who nodded in confirmation.

“ISSP?” Aeslin asked.

“Incognito Superhero Starter Pack,” Parker offered as Thor slipped on a pair of sunglasses and wiggled his eyebrows gleefully at them. Thor fell into step beside Loki, easily carrying Aeslin’s bags for her; she went a few steps forward and wove her arm through Parker’s.

“I see you also got the missive,” Thor said sagely, indicating Loki’s grey hoodie, jeans, plain blue shirt and black Doc Martens. Loki rolled his eyes as they made their way to the car.

Loki sighed. “Had him convinced you had no idea what you were doing, didn’t you? Full armor at the airport, indeed.” Thor gave a knowing grin in reply, and Loki shook his head. “Son of Odin, you are an absolute troll.”

“Yes, son of Frigga,” Thor replied with a quiet chuckle. “That I am.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Yes, Thor's airport look is based off the Ragnarok photos. The author regrets nothing.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two gods, a grocery store, a pair of favors and a few shenanigans.

They emerged from the elevator leading to the underground garage, bags in hand, crowding into the entryway. Thor and Parker extracted themselves, heading off to the kitchen; music was drifting cheerfully through the hallways. Not Christmas music, Aeslin noticed, and something for which she was grateful. The house was decorated, however; beautiful and tasteful touches were scattered throughout the alcoves and rooms of the mansion, a testament that this year, at least, Pepper had won that portion of the holiday battle.

Tony skidded into the hallway in front of them, shoes squeaking on the inlaid floors. She dropped her bags just in time for him to cannonball into her, arms tight around her back. Aeslin returned the hug, feeling a bit more of the stress from the past few months draining away.

“My pigeons!” Tony said, letting go of her at last and turning to Loki, giving him the most-of-a-hug they had worked out over the past several months. “My prodigal pigeons have come home to roost!” He scooped up Aeslin’s carry-on, dropping it onto his shoulder and steering them down the hall. “ _Damn_ , it is good to see the two of you in person. How are things? How was the flight?” He glanced over at Aeslin. “You look exhausted, by the way.”

She shrugged. “That’s what I get for teaching three classes my first-ever semester.”

He let out a low chuckle. “And I still maintain that was a hazing. Who’d you piss off, anyways? I never did ask.”

“Nobody,” Aeslin replied with a laugh. “One of the other professors had an issue that came up the second week of teaching, so I took her folklore section over. No one thought to warn me.”

“Just let you throw yourself to the wolves,” Tony tsked.

“I prefer to think of it as volunteering as tribute. I did survive, after all.”

“With flying colors, no doubt.”

A grin. “We’ll see. Haven’t been fired yet.”

They strolled through the house and onto the back veranda, crossing the landscaped paths toward the guest cottages. It was cool; the sun was already beginning to set, casting long shadows over the trees and grass.

“Thought we’d put you back here this time around,” he said casually. “I have no idea who’s showing up, but I thought you two might like the quiet.” His brow knit. “Don’t want to assume, though. I’ve got tons of rooms inside. You can even have your old ones back, if you want.”

Aeslin looked approvingly at the small guest house. Perched near the edge of the cliff on which the mansion sat, its wraparound porch gave an unobstructed view of the ocean and the setting sun. Tony opened the door with a flourish, showing the interior to be bright, warm and comfortable. She had barely gotten the words “We’ll take i-” out of her mouth before Loki dropped both of his bags gratefully on the floor with a grin and a loud thud.

Tony leaned one hip on the windowsill and pulled a small notebook and pen from the inside pocket of his jacket. She raised her eyebrows, and he grinned in response.

“Sometimes the old ways are still the best, and if you tell _any_ one I said that, your boyfriend’s fired.”

“Promises, promises,” retorted Loki loftily as he stretched his arms overhead, fingertips grazing the ceiling. He cracked his neck as he brought them back down, and she wondered again how exactly he’d managed eight hours in coach, upgraded as it had been. _The things he does for love_ , she thought idly, then turned her attention back to Tony.

“Anything you guys want? Nat sent me a ridiculous list of demands, and then Barton got on board with her, though I _will_ mention that neither one of them have sent an official RSVP.”

“Demands for what?”

Tony skimmed the list. “Mostly baking supplies and alcohol. Apparently you and I aren’t the only ones that are bad at holidays.”

She laughed. “Speak for yourself. I’m not even in the top three. At least I had Phil sometimes.”

“True,” he admitted. “Anyway, I also have some things Rhodey wants to get as well. I thought I’d ask before I sent someone after it.”

“May I?” Loki took the notebook, also reviewing the list; he added a few things, then closed the notebook. “I’ll go,” he said, and Tony looked at him in surprise. He shrugged in response. “I’ll take Thor with me. It’ll keep him out of your hair for a minute or two. Besides, I haven’t driven in ages; I have to make sure I haven’t forgotten how. It’ll be fun.” He turned to Aeslin. “Would you like to come along?”

She hesitated a bit; she could tell from his expression that he knew exactly what she was thinking.

“Nap,” was all he said.

“Jet lag be damned,” she sighed, finally admitting the truth to herself. “I’m practically brain dead right now, and if Parker gets his way, we’ll be up until four tomorrow morning playing games. I’ll need to be at least a little functional for everyone’s sake.”

“Probably wise.” A faint smile touched his face; he made a gentle shooing motion at Tony, who said something about checking the marigolds and excused himself. Loki pulled her close for a brief, thorough kiss, then pressed his lips to her forehead.

“Sleep,” he said. “I’ll be back in a while.”

“I’m glad you’re taking him with you,” she replied, and he grinned down at her.

“Who better, besides you of course, to take on such a grand adventure?”

She leaned up for another kiss. “Come wake me when you’re done?”

He stroked his fingers across her cheek. “Of course, love.”

***

Loki took a moment or two to organize the list while Thor fiddled with the controls, moving the passenger seat back as far as it would go. Sorting the items into sections, Loki determined that there would be a few stops along the way, and he told Thor as much. His brother smiled.

“The longer the better,” Thor said, fumbling a little with his seatbelt as Loki started the car. “Don’t mistake me; I love the others, but they aren’t the primary reason I came.” Loki glanced over at him, and Thor gave a completely unashamed shrug. “I’ve missed you,” he went on. “Asgard isn’t the same without you.”

Loki shook his head with a faint grin. “We’ve been separated in the past for far longer than this, Odinson,” he observed. “What makes this time so different?”

“Because back then, I always knew you’d come home eventually,” Thor replied simply. “That’s no longer the case. It makes our time together now all the more dear.”

There was something in Thor’s tone. A bit of melancholy, perhaps, and Loki bit back the tart response that surfaced automatically. Instead, he concentrated on the busy Malibu streets. His brother stared out the window at the charming decorations in many of the shop windows, and his voice was cheerful when he spoke again.

“Mother sends her love, by the way, as well as all the glorious Solstice greetings you can possibly stomach. She wanted to be here for at least a little while, but the preparations in Asgard are in full swing, and she asked me to pass along the message in case she couldn’t do it herself.”

“Be sure and thank her. It will be odd being on this side of them for once, but I admit I’m curious to see how it goes.”

“As am I.”

They drove in companionable silence for a moment before Loki cleared his throat.

“I need to ask a favor.”

“No such thing,” Thor replied easily. “We’re brothers.”

Loki reached into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a small packet of papers, bound together with a clip. At his gesture, Thor shuffled through the pages, studying each one.

“I’ve hit a wall,” Loki said, pulling into a parking place at their first stop. “None of the local vendors have been able to do exactly what I need for my next project. I was hoping perhaps you could talk someone on your end into helping me out.” He stopped for a second. “I’m not sure how I would pay them, though.”

Thor flipped back to the second sheet. “A chance to work once more for Frigga’s son? It’s payment enough by far.”

“Perhaps once,” he said with a faint smirk. “Probably not so much anymore.”

“You might be surprised,” Thor replied absently as he turned the paper to read the copious notes scribbled along the edges. “That reminds me; I’ve got your Solstice package from Ingrid. Don’t let me forget.” He seemed to sense something in Loki’s silence, and he chuckled a little, turning the page again to finish reading. “She’s worried Kindlesdaughter isn’t feeding you enough. You’re going to waste away on this Realm, according to her.”

He laughed as he opened the car door; Thor tucked the pages safely away as he followed suit. They strolled together across the parking lot. “Please tell me she didn’t.”

“She did, and I’ll give you one better,” replied his brother. “She sent the recipe, too.”

***

Loki meticulously checked off the requests on his list; they spent most of their time at the butcher counter and in the baking supply aisle. He was in the process of choosing several kinds of extract to add the cart when Thor, who had been lost in thought, smacked him on the bicep.

“ _There’s_ your payment,” he said, and Loki, already at an awkward angle as he searched the shelves, nearly fell over.

“There’s _what_ payment?” he asked in response, regaining his balance. “And will you check the list again? That is an ab _surd_ amount of orange extract. Exactly how many armies is Natasha planning to feed?”

Thor crouched next to him, list at the ready, but he didn’t answer his question. “Observe,” he said instead. “Natasha, should she make it here, is planning to bake. We’re also procuring ingredients for Rhodes, Pepper, Joshua-”

“Parker,” Loki broke in. “He doesn’t like his given names.”

“Really?” Thor stopped for a moment. “I’ve been calling him that since we met. He’s never said anything to me about it.”

“Because you’re the son of a king, and he wasn’t raised in a barn,” Loki replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “Just trust me on this. Go on.”

“-and also a few things for others. Solstice is a time for sharing,” he went on cheerfully, and Loki suddenly realized what he was getting at.

“Oh, no you-”

“ _Bake_ with me, brother. Something to share with our friends. Ingrid sent a recipe, remember? We can feast them like true Asgardians! How difficult can it be?”

Loki laughed. “Gods, Thor. Am I the _only_ one around here who remembers the hverabrauð?”

“Maybe,” Thor replied, but his answering grin told Loki that he wasn’t.

“Bury it by a hot spring, Thor, and then go _back_ for it. Don’t just leave it there and wonder why the locals send a panicked letter to the palace a month later about a monster near the pools.” He straightened, adding the handful of tiny bottles to the cart. “Honestly. When was the last time you cooked something that didn’t involve a stick and a fire?”

“Well that’s where _you_ come in,” his brother said airily, pushing the cart to the next aisle. “I’m told you’ve improved your craft immensely since coming to this realm.”

Loki sighed as he faced his brother. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not. A favor for a favor. A fair exchange, considered payment in full.”

A thoughtful pause. “Don’t suppose you’ve got the recipe with you.”

“I don’t,” Thor admitted. “But if you’ll call Parker, I know where it is.”

***

“Good _Lord_ ,” Rhodes said as he took in the large island in the kitchen; it was covered in bags and boxes; the purchases spilled over onto the barstools. “Did you leave anything for anyone else?”

“Probably,” Thor replied as he put the last box carefully on the ground next to the refrigerator. He extracted a few bottles, arranging them in the freezer, then straightened, dusting his hands on his jeans. Rhodes poked through the bags, sorting ingredients and directing where they should go. Parker came in last, toting two bags of flour.

“Where’s Loki?” Rhodes asked.

“Parking the car,” replied the younger man. “Then he was going to grab a shower; he’s still on London time, and he’s been going since sometime yesterday.”

Thor gestured with the half-eaten apple. “He’d better hurry,” he said. “There’s celebrating to be done.”

Parker stifled a snort. “Yeah,” he replied. “Pretty sure he knows.”

***

_“That,” she says, “was not what I meant when I said wake me up.”_

_He twines himself lazily around her, hugging her tightly to him. She can feel his heartbeat against her back as it slows to normal once more, and when he laughs lightly, she feels the hum in her spine._

_“Then you should have been more specific.” He strokes his fingers delicately along her hip. “Though I don’t recall hearing any complaints.”_

_“Me neither.” She turns over, and he kisses her before rolling onto his back. She tucks herself next to him, head resting on his chest; he pulls the sheets around them both. He caresses her hair and her neck as she traces patterns on his skin._

_“Besides,” he goes on, “it was completely medicinal. Therapeutic, even.”_

_A chuckle as she lifts her head, propping it on one hand. “How do you figure?”_

_He shifts, tucking his arm beneath and around her and tracing the edges of one shoulder blade. “Well, I thought perhaps I’d rid you of any last bits of stress you might be carrying after these last few weeks. You’ve been quite busy, and I only wanted to make sure you could enjoy your vacation properly.” He lifts her free hand, then lets go; her arm drops back onto his chest with a boneless thump. He wraps his fingers around hers then, bringing them to his lips. “I brought books and slippers for you, just in case, but it would seem that my original plan worked flawlessly.”_

_“Completely medicinal.”_

_“Mmhmm.” He kisses the inside of her wrist._

_“So this wasn’t about you at all.”_

_He gives her that slow, languid smile, and her stomach flutters a little. “Never said_ that _.”_

_She smiles as she tucks her head beneath his chin. “We should get cleaned up. They’re going to be waiting for us.”_

_“Not if they’ve got half a brain in their heads,” he replies, walking his fingers gently down her back, but then he stretches. “Though I suppose there is something to be said for being polite. Would you like the first or second shower?”_

_She tsks gently. “We’re back in Malibu, handsome.”_

_“I’m not sure I follow.”_

_“California,” she says, as though it answers everything. “We’ve got to conserve water, so you’d better come in with me.” She rolls away from him and off the bed, dragging the sheets with her. He lunges after her a second too late, and she smiles at him over her shoulder as she saunters away. “It’s only polite, after all.”_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hverabrauð: A sweet Icelandic rye bread that historically was baked by placing it into a pot and burying it near a hot spring, or sealing the pot and leaving it in the hot water. 
> 
> Feedback appreciated! This one is kind of getting away from me, and I love it. <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Parker earns another grey hair, Barton discusses Valhalla, and a comparison of traditions yields unexpected results.

The others began to appear some time after midnight. After dinner, they’d mingled for a while, played a few games, and then settled on some non-holiday movies. Jarvis had set up a queue, and the films played in no particular order in the large theater room. Loki and the others came and went as they wished; the atmosphere was calm and relaxed, with absolutely no expectations. He knew that would likely change a little as the time went on, but for now, Loki was content to be with his brother and his friends.

He’d seen the movie before, back in the Warehouse. It was one of Parker’s favorites, so they’d watched it a couple of times in the weeks prior to the invasion. Thor was more than a little entranced by the plot and the visuals, and Loki enjoyed seeing his brother inhaling popcorn and soaking in the film almost more than he did the actual movie.

Loki split his time between the theater room and one of the libraries nearby. He’d given Aeslin a couple of her Solstice gifts early, and she was now curled into one of the large armchairs by the low-burning fireplace, warm socks on her feet and already deep into her new book. She barely noticed when he poked his head in to check on her, which was always a good sign, and he smiled a bit as he headed back toward Parker and his brother to see if he had any interest in the movie up next. It was one he hadn’t seen before, so Loki opted to stay for at least a little while to see what it was like.

Jarvis was leaving several minutes between films to allow for snack refills or other things. Parker spent the time grilling Thor about the previous movie, asking if this or that were actually possible, and Thor was answering the questions as best he could. He glanced up hopefully at Loki as he came in, but Loki only shook his head.

“He and I have already gone over this one,” he said with a grin, “but he wouldn’t believe me.” At Thor’s beseeching expression, he shrugged, then flopped onto one of the massive beanbags scattered around the room, his hands behind his head. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not the one who makes thunderstorms every time he’s mopey; besides, it’s out of my league these days.”

A gentle scoff from his brother. “No such thing.”

“I would have to disagree,” Parker said to Thor. “You weren’t here for the Great Laundry Incident last fall.” He turned to Loki then. “And I _still_ maintain you lied to me about _Interstellar_ because you had to keep up your intern disguise.”

“I did nothing of the sort, and I’ll have you know I actually lied to you _far_ less than you think I did,” Loki replied, flicking a peanut M&M across the room toward him in retaliation. A blur of movement, and the candy was smacked to the floor. Loki grinned as Natasha strolled by, a warning finger wagging in his direction.

“Never the civilians,” she said, a barely-concealed smirk on her lips. “Even when they might deserve it.” She turned her attention to the overstuffed couch. “On your left, _pryanichek_ ,” she warned in the second before she vaulted over the back, landing gracefully between Thor and Parker. Thor offered her the bowl of popcorn, and she traded it for the box of Hot Tamales already in her hand.

“Glad you could make it,” Parker said, settling back against the cushions as the next movie began.

“Yeah,” she replied casually, but Loki didn’t mistake the faint relief on her face at being surrounded by family at last; it was too familiar a look by half. “Me, too.”

***

It therefore came as no surprise the next morning when Loki wandered into the kitchen and found Barton sitting at the island, halfway through a bowl of cereal. Loki merely searched through the cupboards, then put the kettle on to boil. He lifted the box at Clint.

“Tea?”

“None for me, thanks,” replied the archer, “but I’d be grateful if you’d throw one of those extra dark roasts into the Keurig for me.”

Loki did so, taking two mugs from the cupboard and setting one underneath the coffee machine.

“Rough night?” he asked.

“You could say that.” Barton nodded to Aeslin as she came into the kitchen, cheeks flushed from her sprint from the cottage and through the morning chill. “Especially after I told Fury I wasn’t working Christmas anymore. He was _pissed_.”

Aeslin snickered as she pulled her socks on. “Serves him right. You’ve earned the time off.”

“I guess. Nat stopped taking them last year, so I kind of felt sorry for the guy.”

“Makes one of us.” She shook the box of cereal experimentally, then raised an eyebrow and went to the pantry. The archer chuckled.

“Don’t give me that look, small fry,” he said, pointing his spoon at her. “You should know better than to leave a box of Crunch Berries unsupervised.”

“And you couldn’t possibly be the reason it was on the list in the first place,” she replied as she deposited a bowl onto the island and opened her own box. Loki slid the cup of coffee and sugar bowl across the island; Clint nodded his thanks, dropped in three sugar cubes and barely let them dissolve before he took his first sip. He made a face.

“Something wrong?”

“Out of order,” Barton replied with a wince. “I never remember to drink the coffee be _fore_ I eat this stuff.” He made a vague, pained sort of gesture. “Third bowl. My mouth is in ribbons. _Ribbons_ , but damn if I’m ever giving it up. They can pry this spoon from my cold, dead hands.”

Aeslin grinned. “Nah. We’ll just bury you with it.” She winked at Thor, who was just coming in. “Just in case you make it to Valhalla, you know. You’ll need something for the endless snack bar.”

Thor gave her a cheerful shake of his head as he made his way straight for the coffee machine. “No need. Utensils are provided. Gold, if you choose; otherwise, they’ll be carved from the bones of your gloriously-defeated enemies.” He chose his first flavor of the day, then slipped a mug beneath and pushed the button while giving Loki a triumphant grin. It had been quite the celebration when Thor had finally learned to make his own coffee, and he never missed a chance to show off his newfound skills. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard. Do you have an idea, brother?”

“Wouldn’t know,” Loki replied loftily as he squeezed lemon into his tea and smacked Thor’s hand away from Aeslin’s box of cereal in one smooth movement. “Frost giants aren’t meant for Valhalla, for which I’m more than grateful. All that drinking and carousing? I’d be bored to a _second_ death in days. Hours.” He took a sip of tea, then made a face and added another squeeze of lemon. “Take my advice, Barton, and bring a book or twelve. You’ll thank me later.”

Jarvis’ voice broke across the chatter. “There’s a delivery, side door. Mr. Stark is not yet available.”

“On it,” Aeslin piped up. She hopped down from her barstool. Loki followed her out of curiosity to see what might be delivered this early in the morning, and Thor and Barton trailed along, as well. Aeslin opened the door to reveal a slightly-rumpled Banner, standing amidst a small pile of boxes and with a carton of oranges in his arms.

“Doctor,” he said, nodding to Aeslin.

“Doctor,” she replied in a professional tone. “What brings you here?”

A faint grin. “The sure and perfect knowledge that, left to your own devices, every single one of you will die of malnutrition by New Year’s.” He lifted his chin at Thor, who was already halfway through an apple he’d apparently snagged on the way to the door. “Except maybe that one. Jury’s still out on Romanoff.”

Loki thought back to the previous evening’s movie snacks. “Doomed,” he merely said, a sad little smile on his lips.

“I was afraid of that.” Banner hefted the box in his arms a little higher. “Looks like I’m just in time.”

***

Parker and Natasha appeared a short while later, coming straight to the kitchen. Parker leaned down, hands on his knees as he caught his breath, and Banner surveyed Nat with a look of gentle pity.

“Worse than I thought,” he said, taking in her tank top and sneakers. “When did _you_ start running?”

She grinned as she glanced over at Parker. “Thirty seconds after he did. Too much of a head start, really. Tomorrow he won’t get one at all.”

“Monster,” Parker got out through his slowing breath. “ _Monster_.” He seemed to notice Banner for the first time. “I’d rather try outrunning you again. It’s less terrifying in the end.”

“Says _you_ ,” Loki replied, thumping Banner helpfully on the back when the physicist choked on his coffee. “You weren’t there for _half_ of it.”

Parker pulled a protein shake from the fridge, downing a large swallow from the bottle. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did he not bother to _tell_ you he was going running with you? Did he wait until you were completely in the zone and then jumped out of the bushes half a mile down the trail screaming profanities at you in eight different languages? Did he chase you with a _seagull_?”

Thor looked up from his breakfast, unable to hide his approving grin. “Did you?”

She shrugged dismissively. “Just a small one. Little bastard had it coming, anyway. You know they eat baby whales, right?”

“They _wha_ -” Thor began, but Parker spoke over him.

“I couldn’t decide which one was worse. The shark bird or the Russian banshee yelling death threats, and if _that_ doesn’t sum up my current life in a nutshell, I don’t know what does.” He swirled his drink. “‘Why can’t we meet your _friends_ , Joshua? Why are you getting so many grey _hairs_ , Joshua?’ If Grandma only knew.”

“Endearments,” Romanoff told Banner, reaching past Parker for an orange and dodging the biologist’s half-hearted smack. “They were en _dear_ ments. I was just encouraging him.”

“It all sounds the same at eighty-five decibels,” Parker retorted, finishing his drink and throwing the bottle into the bin. “Especially the German.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, sweat making it stick up in every direction. “You’re an absolute menace.”

“And you love it.”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a grin. He stuck his head back in the fridge, pulling out several boxes of butter and putting them on the counter in preparation for the day’s baking. With a nod to the others and a stern look at Natasha, he then went back to the guest areas, presumably to get cleaned up.

Almost out of habit, Nat pulled one of the boxes toward her, emptying it and arranging the sticks of butter on the counter, muttering something about how it would never soften in the box. Banner followed suit as Barton finished his coffee.

“He going out tomorrow?” Barton asked casually, and Nat smirked in return.

“More than likely. You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yep,” replied the archer, picking up a box and dumping a few last sticks of butter onto the island. “Game on.”

***

It was Parker’s day for the kitchen; his traditional offering for the holiday celebrations was sugar cookies and gingerbread, and most of the late morning and early afternoon was spent mixing ingredients, rolling dough and cutting shapes to bake. Loki spent a lot of time in the kitchens with him. He’d missed working alongside the young man, with his comfortable banter and easy laughter. The others came and went, but Thor stopped by the kitchen with soup and bread for both of them, and Loki stared at him in surprise for a second before taking one of the bowls from his brother. Parker stood as he pulled a batch of gingerbread men from one of the ovens, turning his head to sniff appreciatively.

“Chowder?”

“Of a sort. Banner said that he wasn’t sure exactly _what_ it qualified as by the time he was done with it.” Thor put spoons and some napkins on a clear spot on the counter. “But whatever it turned out to be, it’s delightful.” He pushed up the sleeves on his hoodie, gesturing to the sheet of sugar cookie dough Loki had been working on. “May I?”

Parker grinned. “Of course. Cutters are over there, but you can do what you’d like. We’ve got enough people now, so I’m not worried about anything else.”

Thor worked for a moment while Loki and Parker ate. When he spoke to Loki again, his quiet voice held a hint of reproach.

“And I don’t know why you’re so surprised, brother. It’s not as though I’ve never brought you food while you were working. Mostly because I know now, just as I knew then, that you’d get too involved and forget to eat, then wonder why you were so irritable later.”  

“That was before,” Loki said, “when we were the same. Things change.”

A shrug as Thor lifted a circle of dough onto the baking sheet with surprising gentleness.

“Some things don’t.”

***

All of the others were familiar with the tradition of Christmas cookies; even Aeslin had done them as a child in the years prior to her father’s death. Thor and Loki caught on to the decorating easily enough, and soon the conversation turned to other holiday traditions.

“Kindle. You’re up.”

Aeslin touched the end of her toothpick to her cookie, drawing a deep blue line through the white glaze already meticulously spread across the circle. “Fourteen hour shifts both days,” she replied after lifting the pick again. “I did it so other people could have family time, plus it gave me an excuse to do movie marathons.”

Stark nodded. “Decent of you, but I’m afraid we can’t fully approve until we know _which_ movies.”

“Changed every year for a while,” she admitted, going for a few dots of yellow, “but the last few times it’s been _Lord of the Rings_ on Christmas and _Star Trek_ on New Year’s Eve.” She seemed to catch Parker’s pained look from the corner of her eye, and she grinned. “Even-numbered ones only. Even _I_ didn’t have that much patience. The years he was onsite, Phil would break into my rooms while I was working to leave me presents from Santa, and I would call security on him.” She shrugged, a tiny smile on her face at the memory. “It was kind of our thing.”

Parker laughed. “Did they ever catch him?”

“Once. The whole team got promotions.”

Thor’s brow knit. “Santa. Who’s Santa?”

“Guy in red?” Rhodes offered as he added a bit of yellow frosting to the blue already covering his gingerbread man. “Has a sleigh. Flies around the world on Christmas Eve giving presents to all the good little girls and b…” He trailed off awkwardly at Thor’s look. The blond giant then turned to Loki, who shrugged as he dusted sprinkles across his cookie.

“I did warn you,” Loki said.

“But that’s-” Thor stopped, then tried unsuccessfully to start over.

“That’s what you get for sealing off a realm,” Loki finished for him. “In only a few generations, they manage to butcher truth and call it legend. They mangle tradition. They turn lethal plants into a pathetic - sorry, _charm_ ing - excuse to kiss strangers, as _if_ you need a reason when you know what you’re doing.” He solemnly held up his own gingerbread man, glazed in gold, green and liberally doused with sprinkles. “They resort to cannibalism.”

“Delicious cannibalism,” Stark put in, finger pointed defensively, and Loki broke into a grin.

“Agreed,” he said, pointing back with his cookie, “but you’ve still got it all wrong.”

Thor still looked confused. “How can this be the first I’ve heard of it? You’ve told me nothing of these celebrations. You were here last year, weren’t you?”

“Last year was a little different. I-” he blinked, then glanced at Aeslin. “What _did_ we do for Solstice? Christmas, I mean.”

“Locked the doors,” she replied absently, adding a few more lines to a cookie that Loki now realized was a minimalist replica of a rose window. “Watched half of _Elf_ before your brain started dying, so we switched to scary movies. Ordered Chinese twice because everything else was closed, and I’m almost sure I fell apart a few times. We weren’t in Malibu yet.”

Loki smiled a little at Thor, who was watching Aeslin work with sympathy in his face.

“And there you have it,” Loki said kindly. “The magic of Christmas.”

“Damn.” Pepper’s voice cut the sudden silence. “There goes another one.” All eyes went to her as she took a bite of her partially-frosted Christmas tree, and she gave an innocent look. “What? You can’t trade the broken ones. That’s just rude.”

Loki shot her a grateful look, then turned back to Aeslin, who was now midway through a gingerbread bell that had clearly been deliberately snapped. “Is that true?”

“One hundred percent,” she said, visibly glad to be past the moment. She broke off another piece of cookie. “But in other news, based on this recipe, I hereby nominate Parker’s grandma for sainthood.”

Natasha thumped the table. “Hear _hear_.”

“Hold up, hold up.” Rhodes gestured to Loki. “Go back to what you were saying about mangling things.”

“Jul,” Loki explained patiently. “Where do you think you got it?”

“You’re kidding. From you guys?”

Thor smiled, back on firmer ground. HIs voice took on the richer, deeper tone that Loki always thought of as his Mostly Regal Voice. “The Solstice is one of our most celebrated holidays. I believe I see where you get your legends. On the longest night of the year, Odin calls the Wild Hunt. He rides atop Sleipnir through the skies, bringing light and hope back to the realms. His subjects put out hay and sugar for his beast for the long journey, and in return, the All-Father leaves their children gifts.”

“How? Where?”

Loki spoke up. “In their shoes.”

Rhodes looked genuinely curious. “And have you ever joined this Wild Hunt?”

“Of course,” Thor replied, casually dropping his hand onto the glazed, ornament-shaped cookie in front of him, breaking it neatly down the middle. He took a large, unapologetic bite of one of the pieces and gestured to Loki. “We both did. The Hunt is at its peak on Solstice Eve, and to participate is one of the greatest honors Odin can bestow. It was a privilege to assist him during those times.”

“Assist how?”

“Leaving the gifts, generally,” Thor admitted. “The All-Father doesn’t much care for that part. We were the ones responsible for making sure the shoes were filled and that the hay and sugar looked at least partially eaten.”

“Sleipnir didn’t eat it?” Banner put a carefully decorated reindeer onto a plate in the center of the table.

“ _That_ spoiled bastard?” Loki pulled another cookie off the pile and reached for the blue glaze. “Please. He wouldn’t come _near_ it. If they truly wanted to lure him in, they’d have had better luck with cookies, or at the very least they should have doused the sugar cubes with alcohol. He’d have been on them like a _shot_.”

“So you guys ate it instead.”

Loki laughed. “No. Pocketed a few cubes, stirred the hay around to make it _look_ eaten. At least, that’s what I did. I can’t speak for anyone _else_ at the table.”

Parker looked at Thor. “Please tell me you didn’t eat the hay.”

Thor perfectly mimicked his tone. “I didn’t eat the hay.” A small grin lurked at the edges of his mouth.

“You did. You _did_. Oh, man, you didn’t,” Parker replied, but he didn’t seem to know which to believe. Thor allowed that Mona Lisa smile to get a little bigger, and Loki smothered a quiet laugh of his own. Parker narrowed his eyes, then smacked Thor on the bicep and turned back to his cookie. “Jerk. You almost had me there.”

Barton leaned forward, folding his hands. “So let me get this straight,” he said in his friendliest interrogation voice. “Santa-”

“Odin,” Thor replied.

“-rides his sleigh-”

“Sleipnir.”

“Right, right. Across the sky -”

“That part is at least accurate.”

“- leaving presents for all the kids -”

“Also mostly accurate.”

“- except _he_ doesn’t do it. He makes _you_ do it.”

“Exactly,” Thor replied, his pose matching Barton’s.

“Which makes you-”

Loki head came up rapidly, the memory of half a movie a year ago suddenly very clear. “No. _No_. Don’t even-”

Nat’s voice was hushed and reverent. “Santa’s little _helpers._ ”

Loki let his head fall into his hand with a gentle smack. Thor’s brow knit a little. “Well,” the blond managed after a moment. “I suppose you could say-”

“Elf _._ ” Parker’s voice quivered with barely-contained glee. “You’re _elves_.”

Thor’s voice was patient. “No, Parker. Neither of us are elves. I am Aesir, and my broth-” he broke off at a helpless snort from Natasha, who was frantically fanning tears from her eyes in an attempt to keep control.

“They’ve even got the colors right,” Stark managed through his own badly-stifled giggles. “One in red, one in green, and oh _damn_ , I think I just pulled something. Do they even _make_ tights your size?” He pointed weakly at his forehead. “Tell me you see it. Someone _please_ tell me you can see what I’m thinking.”

“Already wondering how to _un_ see it,” Rhodes replied, wiping tears from his own face. “Lord have _mercy_.”

Loki finally raised his head from his hand, and Thor met his eyes through the hysterics around them, face curious. “I just don’t see what’s so funny, brother,” Thor finally said. “We’re not even _from_ Alfheim.”

***

The Pictionary tournament was in full swing; voices and laughter drifted through the open windows and into the cool Malibu night. Banner wandered over to the table set up along one wall, trying to decide on a drink, and was startled by a gentle tap on the door leading to the veranda. He looked up, squinting, then walked a few steps forward to slide open the glass.

Rogers stood out on the polished stone of the balcony, still in his full Captain America regalia. He was bruised and dirty, the rips in his uniform visible in the light that spilled out of the game room. It was obvious that he’d just come from a mission, and Bruce briefly wondered if he’d brought a Quinjet or just climbed the cliff on which the mansion stood. Rogers and Banner stared at each other for a second, and then Steve seemed to remember something.

“Oh,” he said, holding up a hand. “Hold on.” He turned, bending to the backpack at his feet. When he straightened again, Captain America’s helmet had been replaced by a Santa hat with the tag still dangling from the brim. Rogers looked at Banner, then past him to the other players. He lifted his hands; each held a six-pack of what Banner could have sworn was craft root beer, of all things.

“Uh,” Rogers finally said with a sheepish grin. “Merry Christmas?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Per request, I will have links to recipes by the time I'm done with this mess. Feedback appreciated! This chapter got long, but I really liked the way it turned out. :) Love you all! Thanks for staying with me!
> 
> (pryanichek: Russian for "gingerbread man". It's a term of endearment.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki fulfills his half of the bargain.

Loki waited until there was a lull in the activities; there was usually one in the midmorning and another in the late afternoon. He poked his head into several rooms, hoping to find Parker, and was rewarded on his fourth try.

“Morning,” said Loki, and Parker turned, clearly startled.

“Sorry,” came the reply. “Guess I'm still a little skittish from this morning.” He gave a light chuckle. “Man, she and Barton really upped their game. Let's hope that the future Mrs. Parker wasn't in the crowd of people who saw me run out of the woods screaming _what's my safe word_ at the top of my lungs.”

“Did you ever figure out which one they assigned?”

He stretched out on the couch, hands behind his head. “No, but I can tell you several dozen things it _was_ n't. How was I supposed to know we were on a holiday schedule?”

“You know,” Loki observed, “they'll quit if you ask them to.”

“Which is why I never will.” He carefully rubbed at a scrape above one elbow, then replaced his hand beneath his head. “I figure it's their way of showing love, the poor kids, and objectively, I know enough to know I'm never in _actual_ danger. My limbic system believes something vastly different, but what can you do, right? Plus you can't swing a cat around here without hitting at least a sort of trained medical professional, so I figure I'm good.” He grinned. “Besides, it is one _hell_ of an adrenaline rush.” He gave Loki a stern look. “But you didn't hear that from me. You ready for _The Nutcracker_ tomorrow?”

Loki blinked at the sudden change of topic. “I suppose,” he said. “I wasn't aware that Aeslin and I were the only one with tickets, though.”

A shrug. “Most of us have already seen it. Rhodes hasn't, but he thinks the whole idea is kind of goofy, to be honest. Appreciates the skill, sure, but it's just not his thing. Tony's, either. We just wanted to give you the chance.”

“And Nat? She seems like she might be the type.”

There was a heavy pause, so brief Loki almost missed it. “Nat hates the ballet. Barton's not much better.”

There was something beneath the surface, but Loki didn't press. “Fair enough. I'll be sure and give you my impressions when we come back. Pity you couldn't get Thor one.”

“Doesn't seem like something he'd be interested in.”

“No,” Loki said with a grin. “And that's rather the point.” He looked down at his hands, suddenly nervous in the way he invariably got in these moments. “Got a second?”

“Sure,” replied Parker. “What's up?”

Loki stood, beckoning for the young man to follow. “I've got your Solstice gift for you.”

The biologist followed him toward the living room, with its tall tree and low-burning fire. “I thought Stark said no gifts. That was the rule, so I didn't get you anything.”

“Doesn't matter.”

“It does, though. It should be a gift ex _change_. That's the whole point.”

“You've already given me your gift.”

“What, the shirt? That was a joke, not an actual _present,_ and it was for your birthday, not Christmas.”

“Wore it anyway.”

“I mean it really wasn't eve- wait, what? When?”

“Pub crawl,” he replied absently. “I've got pictures somewhere.” He leaned over the edge of the couch, searching under the tree for the box he'd stashed a few hours before.

“Hold up,” Parker broke in. “You're telling me the god of mischief went on a pub crawl through London wearing a Care Bear shirt _I bought him_ , and there's photographic _evidence_?”

“Not _much_ ,” Loki admitted, straightening again. “But that's not the point.”

“That is _so_ the point.”

“No, it's not.” He offered Parker a heavy package, wrapped in iridescent paper. Parker stared at it for a second in disbelief.

“You didn't.”

Loki didn't answer; instead, he held out the box more insistently, and Parker took it at last.

“I've never been fond of sentiment,” Loki said, “and I still have very little use for it, with few notable exceptions, so listen carefully. I'm only going to say this once.”

Parker sat very still, hands tight around the edges of the box. Loki took a breath.

“I don't make friends easily,” he said, “nor do I make them often. There's a reason for that, and it served me well, I thought, for centuries. Then I was dropped here. Banished with nothing but the clothing on my back, which I got to keep for about two hours until they took _that_ away, too. I was asked what I wanted. Everyone was falling over themselves asking how to help me, except Kindlesdaughter. She never asked. She just did.” A small smirk. “Whether I liked it or not. And then you did the same.”

Parker's brow knit. “I don't understand.”

“You never asked what I wanted,” Loki repeated gently. “You never asked if I needed a friend. You just became one. No expectations. No questions. No doubts. And then, even when you found out what I was, found out what I'd been, saw what I could do and found out all the times I'd lied to you because I had to, nothing changed. _Nothing_.” He stopped for a second. “ _That_ was your gift, Parker. The one that only a few others in my lifetime have ever offered, and the funny thing is, you didn't even realize you gave it. Your friendship. No strings attached, no agenda, no hope of reward from a king's son. All you saw was a friend.” He shook his head. “And if you think what I'm giving you now even be _gins_ to equal what you've done, then maybe I'm not the only idiot around here.”

The young man stared down at the box in his lap. “Hell, man,” he finally said, voice quiet. “It wasn't that hard. I've made lots of friends in my day.”

Loki shrugged. “I haven't.” He sat back, resting against the overstuffed couch cushions. “Enough sentiment.  Open your present.”

Parker gave a slightly damp laugh as he pulled at the wrapping paper. He pushed it to one side, lifting the top from the box. Staring inside for a long moment, he finally breathed out a single word.

“Language,” Loki replied simply as the other man reverently pulled the book from its case.

He'd covered the copy of _On The Origin of Species_ with carefully distressed leather, mimicking a ship's journal. The spine and binding were draped with ropes and delicately woven fishing nets; they held tiny replicas of creatures, flora and the occasional fleck of driftwood. Parker stroked his fingers along the ridges on the spine, skimming over the embossed letters of the title.

Parker opened the book gently and stared at the pages inside. “Please tell me this isn't a first edition.”

“Yes and no,” Loki replied. “Third edition, sadly, but you'll find some new content added in the back that makes it a truly unique piece.”

Parker fanned to the end of the book where there were additional pages, divided into chapters and written in language that mimicked the rest of the narrative. Notes on what purported to be new species; Loki watched the grin spread across the boy's face as he read about the Chitauri, the evolution of a creature known as the Hulk, random musings on Asgardian biology and a full section on the creation of one Doctor Aeslin Kindle. He flipped to the last few leaves, seeing that they were completely blank. He looked up in surprise.

“For your discoveries,” Loki said in answer to his unspoken question.”If you'll notice, most of what's written on the Chitauri is your own research, kindly stolen back by one Agent Romanoff from SHIELD’s databases. Your first real study in your field, and hopefully not the last. The remaining pages are yours to add what you wish.” He smiled. “After you've filled up the field journal, that is.”

Parker blinked, hard. “The what?”

Loki handed over the smaller box he'd retrieved while Parker had been studying his gift. Parker took this one, slipping off the lid to reveal a smaller book, similarly bound but clearly sturdier, with a buckle closure and a spot for storing writing implements inside the front cover. He shook his head helplessly.

“Damn you, Laufeyson,” he finally managed. “ _Damn_ you.”

Loki smiled back. “Happy Solstice to you too, you little bastard.”

***

_He meets his brother in the kitchen; Loki is hunched over the slightly-too-short island, rapidly writing notes with one hand and tapping the fingers of the other on the stone countertop. He doesn’t look up as Thor comes in, sleeves pushed up and ready to work; Loki merely gestures to the plate in front of him, on which rests one of Ingrid’s gifts. Bits and pieces are already missing._

_“Try some,” his brother tells him, “but don’t eat the whole thing. I’m sacrificing it for the greater good.”_

_Thor grins, breaking off a corner. The pastry melts in his mouth, and he is barely finished with it when Loki shoves an open bottle of spices under his nose._

_“Smell that.”_

_Raising an eyebrow before taking a delicate sniff, he files the scent away for a moment before Loki replaces the bottle with another._

_“Now smell that.”_

_He leans forward, inhaling this scent as well. “Is there a purpose to this?”_

_“Some of the spices in this recipe don’t exist on this realm, from what I can tell,” comes the reply. “Nor do the measurements, but I expect that’s what comes when you use the same recipe for two thousand years. She probably hasn’t needed to measure since_ long _before you and I showed up. A pinch of this, a handful of that.” He pauses thoughtfully for a second. “How big are her hands, do you think?”_

 _Thor snorts. “How would_ I _know?”_

_A grin as Loki makes another notation. “Because you were the one always getting swatted for stealing. I thought you’d at least have a general idea. Smaller than yours? Bigger than Aeslin’s?”_

_“I have no idea what your woman’s hands are like.”_

_Loki gestures sharply at him with his pencil and without raising his head. “Good answer. We should get her in here, though, and have her smack you around for a comparison. You know. For_ _research_. _”_

_Thor chuckles. “No need. Just assume Ingrid’s hands are larger than Aeslin’s and smaller than mine.”_

_“If we must,” Loki sighs, then taps the pencil on his lower lip. “I suppose it all comes down to ratios, anyway. But the spices. Close enough?”_

_Thor sniffs each again in turn. “I think so,” he replies._

_“Excellent. So did I.”_

_His brow knits. “So I was telling you something you already knew, then. Just as I always do.”_

_Loki looks up then, faint surprise in his face. “No,” he says. “I wasn’t sure at all; that’s why I asked for your help. My thanks, brother.”_

_He is glad he is already sitting. He is just as glad that his brother’s attention is already back on the page in front of him and that he cannot see the look of shock on Thor’s face. A stray lock has worked its way free from the ponytail at Loki’s neck, and Thor watches his brother tuck it behind his ear with an easy movement while he straightens. Even that is surprising to him; Loki has never let his hair get this long in all the time his brother has known him, but for some reason, it fits him now._

_“I think that’s the best I’m going to be able to do,” he says after another moment's study, pushing the reworked recipe toward the center of the island. He pulls Ingrid’s pastry toward himself, taking half and offering the rest to Thor, who accepts it with a bit of bewilderment. Loki does not give these up lightly. He never has._

_“Just destroying the evidence,” Loki tells him, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Thor’s view of his brother is slithering further into unknown territory with every passing moment. Loki blithely finishes his portion and heads over to the pantry to gather ingredients. “If they lack a true comparison, they’ll never know if we botch this thing up.” He throws a bag over his shoulder toward Thor, who catches it mid-air. “Soak those in hot water, would you?”_

_***_

_Under Loki’s instructions, Thor mixes and measures; they trade barbs and jokes with equal fervor, and it feels good to laugh with his brother again. More than once, Loki cautions him, reminding Thor that he’s not going to be able to grow his eyebrows back for him this time, and he’ll just have to return to Asgard empty-headed. Thor wonders aloud how anyone would tell the difference, and they both dissolve into familiar laughter. Stark walks by; they shoo him away, but not before he makes a joke about the rum being for baking, not drinking._

_He does not notice that the bottle has not even been opened._

_Once the dough is kneaded, they set it aside for the moment to allow it to rise. Loki, as always, has cleaned as he worked, so there is little to do but wait. They make their way to one of the large rooms, where the others lounge and chat. Thor takes a spot on a couch, grinning when Rhodes slaps his arm in greeting and raises a soft cloud of flour, but his eyes are on his brother._

_It was always difficult to tell, even for Thor, when Loki took a lover. The signs were generally slight, if they were there at all. A feast left a fraction too early to be polite. A look that lasted a second too long. A smirk in a surprising direction. His brother was ever cagey, ever collected, and always within the strict boundaries set upon the princes. Only once, when Loki was very young, was he ever anything but the clear-headed, aloof, razor-sharp son of Odin._

_Only once._

_Aeslin is curled near the end of one of the massive floor pillows, deep in conversation with Rogers. One leg is drawn up beneath her, and the other is bent; her hands are clasped around her shin as she talks with the soldier. Her face is alight, her movements animated, her smile brilliant, and for a moment, Thor thinks he understands what drew his brother to her. He watches Loki cross the room and sit on the cushion near her. She doesn’t even seem to notice he is there, but as he stretches out along the cushion, she shifts a little. Just enough to allow Loki’s head to come to rest in her lap. She waits for a moment as he settles himself, eyes closed and hands resting on his stomach, and then her fingers drop to his hair, combing through the dark strands and smoothing along his forehead. Through it all, she continues her conversation with Rogers as though nothing has happened, as though Thor has not just seen something he had thought almost impossible. After a few moments, Loki joins the conversations around him, eyes still closed and with a smile on the edges of his lips. Thor glances around the room, wondering if the others see what he does, and after a while, he realizes they do._

_They do, and to them, it is perfectly natural. This is Loki. This is_ their _Loki. A Loki that has, perhaps, always existed, but one Thor has thought dead for centuries._

_Long has it been since Thor has seen his brother in love. Even longer since he has seen him truly at peace. Long enough that he has almost forgotten what it looks like._

_Not dead, Thor finally decides. Just lost._

_Lost, and found once more._

_***_

_They return to the kitchen a few hours later. Loki splits the raised ball of dough into two parts, handing Thor half. Thor follows his brother’s lead, dividing the smooth lump into thirds and rolling it into ropes. His fingers are not as nimble as Loki’s; they never have been, but he braids his dough together as best he can, brow furrowed._

_“I am sorry,” he finally says, not raising his eyes from his work._

_Loki idly pokes an escaped raisin back into his own creation, voice a little distracted as he arranges it on the baking sheet. “Whatever for? I have no idea what I’m doing either. We’ll just claim it’s how things are done in the palace, and as long as our stories match, they’ll be none the wiser.”_

_Thor shakes his head, mind still in the past. Still seeing himself standing in front of his brother’s closed door, still wincing at the words coming from his younger self._

_“Not about the bread.” He pats the top of his loaf gently, and Loki covers the baking sheet with plastic and takes it back toward the sheltered spot near the stove. Thor stays where he is, drawing his finger through a small bit of flour. “About Signe. About the things I said afterward. About letting you fall. About…” he stops himself for a moment. “About everything.”_

_He looks up into the silence to see his brother standing across the island from him, staring at him with piercing blue eyes and an unreadable face. “You didn’t,” he says. Thor does not reply, and it is apparent that Loki can read his confusion. “_ You _didn’t let me fall, Thor,” he tells him again, a bit of exasperation coloring his tone. “Of_ every _one on that damned bridge, you were the only one who_ didn't  _let me fall. Don’t you see, brother? There’s nothing to forgive.”_

_It is as though a weight has dropped from Thor’s shoulders, gone so rapidly that he almost feels himself lift from the barstool. He watches Loki pull two bottles from the refrigerator; he hands one to Thor and opens the other. Thor toys with the label on his beverage._

_“And the rest?”_

_Loki takes a long drink, then sets his bottle firmly on the island between them. He glances over at the mangled braids of dough already rising on the back counter, then turns back with a lazy grin._

_“Well,” he says, shrugging as he inclines his drink in a toast to his brother, “nobody’s perfect.”_

_***_

Thor carefully pulled the baking sheet from the oven, surveying the heavenly-smelling lumps with a critical eye.

“These look nothing like Ingrid’s,” he said, voice a little mournful, but Loki reached past him and pulled the small tester loaf off the metal. He juggled it between his hands, trying to cool it, then dunked it into the small bowl of glaze he’d just finished whisking together.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, breaking the tiny loaf in two and handing Thor half. “Just tell me what you think.”

Thor popped the bread into his mouth. He closed his eyes, a small, enthusiastic noise escaping before he managed to smother it. “It worked,” he said, meeting Loki’s eyes. “It _worked_.” His grin faded as he looked back down at the two mangled heaps Loki had moved to the cooling rack. “But they look nothing like maiden’s braids. You would think us better at this, but I fear these are more tentacles than tresses.” He watched glumly as Loki drizzled the still-warm loaves with glaze; then, with half a grin, his brother added two pieces of dried fruit to each one. He turned them so that Thor could see the finished product. Tiny, baleful, raisin eyes stared out from atop the masses of tangled dough. Simple scrapes through the glaze with a pick gave each a pair of angry-looking eyebrows.

“There,” Loki said simply. “Fixed. Two nearly perfect examples of Asgard’s traditional Solstice krakens. Start some coffee, would you? I’ll go and get the others.”

 

 

 

 ---

(a/n: i CANNOT get my links to work in the notes section. 

I can't tell you exactly what it is, because I don't know, but the basis of what they end up making is a sweet bread from Sweden called pulla. Basic recipe [here](http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/finnish-sweet-cardamom-raisin-bread-239293). 

[Here's](http://s86.photobucket.com/user/sweetmauleymalloy/media/grumpy%20bear_zpshkt1cfas.jpg.html) the shirt Parker got him for his birthday. Grumpy Bear. I thought it appropriate.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback appreciated, as always. The mental images this one gives me are beautiful. Probably one more chapter in this beast, and then we'll move along. This one has gotten SO far beyond what I was expecting, and I'm very glad. :) Love you all!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Involving a poorly disguised metaphor, Solstice gifts, a Kevlar apron and the most exciting morning run Parker's had in YEARS.

_He surfaces from sleep almost reluctantly; the previous night stretched well into the early morning, and he plans to stay in this safe, comfortable cocoon for as long as possible. Not only for the soft sheets and the perfect mattress, but because this is, and always will be, his favorite time of day._

_He rests on his stomach, allowing himself to wake by degrees. She is curled next to him with her back pressed against his side. Their room faces west, across the vast Pacific, so the light that filters around the curtains is pale and soothing. He watches for several moments as the room brightens fractionally, but eventually the combination of sunlight on the ceiling and her even breaths against his ribs lull him back into sleep._

_When he wakes again, it is to the feeling of her fingers sliding gently along his flank. She presses a neat line of kisses to the edge of his shoulder blade; he cannot help but smile._

_“Something you’re after?”_

_“Nothing in particular,” she answers, lips moving along his ribs. “I just got lonely.”_

_“I’m right here. Just like I’ve been for hours.”_

_“You were asleep. It’s not quite the same.”_

_“Mmhmm,” he responds, skepticism in his tone._

_She grins; he feels it on his skin. “Bored, then.”_

_“You’ve got a book on your nightstand.” He adjusts his position a fraction, if only to offer a better angle for her lazy explorations._

_“Finished it.”_

_“The Renfrew, as well? Where’s your other Pratchett?”_

_“Saving it for the trip home.”_

_He belatedly realizes she is playing connect the dots with the freckles on his back, and he tries to keep the laughter out of his voice as she wends her way up toward his shoulder. “Whyever for?”_

_“Because I can’t do_ this _on the trip home.”_

_“True,” he admits, shifting beneath her touch so they’re facing. “It would be terribly impolite.”_

_A faint smirk touches her face. “That’s certainly one word for it.” She nudges him purposefully; he takes the hint and rolls fully onto his side so she can burrow into his waiting arms. He steals a brief, playful kiss in return, but, as usual, it evolves rapidly into something more._

_It shouldn’t surprise him by now, the way they cannot seem to get enough of each other. He sometimes wonders if her need is greater, or his. He wonders if he will ever be able to feel complete again without her. He wonders if anyone in Asgard would even recognize him these days, and then he wonders exactly when she learned how much he_ loves _it when she touches him in just that way. His brain shuts down, his body takes over, and he begins to lose himself in her arms._

_A firm knock sounds on the door, and Loki makes a noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl as he raises his head. He glares over his shoulder toward the front of the cottage. She pushes up a little, following his gaze._

_“Do you think they’ll go away if we pretend we’re not here?”_

_“Doubtful,” he replies. “It’s Thor.” He drops his mouth to her skin again for a single, defiant second, and then he struggles free of the covers, tucking them back around her as he goes._ _“Stay here. I’ll see what he wants.” Taking his jeans from the back of the chair, he tugs them on; after a second’s consideration, he plucks his t-shirt off the lamp shade and pulls it over his head as he makes his way toward the door._

_Thor has lifted his hand to knock again when Loki answers. He blinks at the sight of his brother standing in his familiar Asgardian clothing; his brow furrows as he steps out onto the porch in bare feet and closes the door behind him._

_“Leaving so soon?”_

_“Just for a little while,” Thor replies. “I have a good idea of who to ask about your favor, and with the festivities still in progress, there is a better than passing chance he’ll be at the palace. I should also at least make an appearance; I am the heir, after all.”_

_Loki watches Thor scuff his boot gently against the doorstep. “How angry was he, exactly?” he finally asks, and Thor allows a small grin to come to his lips._

_“I have no idea,” he admits. “I didn’t linger long enough to find out.”_

_Loki’s voice is chiding. “Thor. You didn’t have to-”_

_“You’re right,” his brother says, uncharacteristically cutting him off. His voice softens a little. “I didn’t.” He pats his tunic gently, and Loki hears the faint crumple of the folded papers tucked within. “I will have your answer, and your price, when I return. Once I find him, it shouldn’t take long.”_

_A nod. “Safe journey, then. Give my regards to Mother.”_

_“Of course.” Thor takes a step back, hand already going to the hammer at his belt when Loki speaks again, almost without thinking._

_“Bring Goblin’s Teeth back with you, if you can,” he says. “We should play a few rounds. Make sure you still know how.” At Thor’s surprised look, Loki shrugs. “I left my board in London.”_

_A brilliant grin breaks across his brother’s face, but Thor keeps his voice casual. “Aye,” he says. “I’ll see what I can do.” With a nod, he leaps off the porch, Mjolnir spinning in his grip. A sudden smell of ozone, a gust of wind, and he is gone. Loki straightens with a faint smile at the familiar theatrics and goes back inside._

_He relocks the door and heads toward the bedroom once more._

_“And?” she asks._

_“He’s gone home on an errand, but he should return in a few days. Nothing to worry about.” He rapidly sheds his jeans and t-shirt, then climbs back into the nest of blankets. “Learned something else, too.” In a smooth motion, he slides his freezing hands beneath her tank top and catches her strangled curse in a kiss as she lunges forward to escape his fingers. He breaks away with a grin, then runs the tip of his frigid nose across her cheekbone and toward the warm spot behind her ear._

_“It’s rather cold outside.”_

_***_

Loki wandered across the lawn and through one of the glass doors leading into the house. The room was empty, so he carefully draped his suit coat and tie over the back of the couch and followed his ears and nose to the kitchen. Parker sat at the island, pen in hand and his book of crosswords open in front of him. He looked up as Loki entered.

“Afternoon,” he said pointedly, and Loki grinned back.

“Va _ca_ tion.” He helped himself to one of the oranges in the bowl on the counter. Bruce ensured that it was kept full; at some point, someone had drawn a small sketch of the doctor lecturing on the evils of scurvy and attached it to the container. Bruce hadn’t stopped laughing for a good ten minutes after he'd discovered it, so the sign had remained. The art wasn’t Aeslin’s, of that Loki was almost sure, but he had an inkling of whose it _might_ be.

Loki sat on the bar stool next to Parker’s, glancing over at his puzzle. “Besides,” he went on as he pulled the rind from his orange, “do you want godchildren, or don’t you? Make up your mind.”

Parker snorted as he shot a look to the stove, where Steve was stirring something that Loki assumed would eventually be dinner. It was his night, after all, and he had been a little disappointed to find out that Loki and Aeslin already had plans for the evening. The soldier gave no outward sign that he’d noticed, but Loki knew better.

“Pretty sure Captain Rogers knows where assumptions - sorry, babies - come from,” Loki observed kindly.

“Storks,” Rogers answered over Parker’s very dignified raspberry. He leaned against the counter next to the stove, mixing a tiny bowl of spices with his index finger. He stopped as if to consider for a second, studying the crushed herbs. “Also USO tours. But mostly storks.”

Loki saluted him with a section of orange, and Rogers smirked and turned back to his pot.

“How did your run go this morning, incidentally?” Loki asked the young man. “You seem to have made it back in one piece, at least.”

He grinned. “It was actually pretty awesome.”

“They left you alone, then?”

“Nah.” He rapidly filled in another line of boxes with a grin, then glanced over toward the stove. “I just got smart.”

Loki followed his eyes, finally noticing the series of rapidly-healing scrapes on Rogers’ triceps. He chuckled. “You hired a bodyguard.”

“I called in a favor.”

“He _cheat_ ed.” Barton sauntered into the kitchen.

“It’s not cheating if there aren’t any rules.”

“There _are_ rules,” the archer corrected him, gesturing with the ice pack in his hand. He sported a small cut above one eyebrow, and his lower lip was swollen enough that his words were a little slurred. “You just don’t _know_ them all.” He headed toward the refrigerator, bending slightly to open the freezer section. Rogers stepped next to him to search a cupboard for additional ingredients.

“On your left,” he said cheerfully to Clint; the archer dropped the ice pack and shut the freezer,  then straightened slowly and faced Steve, eyes narrowed.

“Hate you, man,” Barton responded coolly, a twitch of laughter almost visible at one corner of his mouth. “I _hate_ you right now.”

***

Aeslin appeared a short time later, shoes carried in one hand and a warm, soft jacket in the other. She sat on one of the bar stools and chatted with Rogers as she pulled on her heels.

“Car’s out front,” she told Loki after a moment. “Ready?”

“Just a few things in the other room,” he answered. He picked up her coat, and she took his hand as she stood.

“Have fun, you two,” Rogers said, “even if you _are_ missing World’s Best Spaghetti night.”

Smiles, a few hugs, and after a slight detour to retrieve Loki's tie and suit coat, they made their way to her Jeep, already parked in the turnaround. He opened the driver’s side door for her, gave her a peck on the cheek and then went around to the passenger side. Loki waited until she’d started the car and pulled away before speaking.

“You,” he said after a moment, “are a dangerous woman.”

A faint smile touched her face as she drove to the front gates, then out onto the road. “Because I can drive in four-inch heels?”

“Among other things.” He settled back against the seat. “Mostly because I've become accustomed to you looking and dressing a certain way. You’re sneakier than I give you credit for sometimes. You lure me in, allow me to almost forget what you're capable of, and then…” he trailed off, rubbing a thumb across the point where the lace stopped a few inches above her knee. “This.”

“I learned from the best,” she replied easily, and he nodded in agreement.

“Agreed. Coulson taught you well.”

She gave a quiet laugh. “And then I go and use my skills on you, of all people. I don’t quite know how he’d feel about _that_.”

“I do.”

Glancing over, she changed lanes and then turned her attention back to the road. “I’m not so sure,” she observed. “He liked you, after a while. He thought you were brilliant. He respected you. He also wanted to punch you re _peat_ edly in the kidneys sometimes, though I can’t think of anyone who knows you that hasn’t at least briefly entertained the idea at one point or another. But he did like you.”

Loki thought back to the Warehouse, and to the simple grey envelope that Phil had refused to take back. “I’m glad,” he replied after a moment. “It made things easier.”

They drove in companionable silence for a moment, both lost in their memories. Her voice was quiet when she spoke again.

“So you like it?”

He gently squeezed the muscles above her knee. “It’s hideous,” he said fervently. “I demand you pull over and take it off this _second_.” He paused, letting a wolfish grin creep onto his face. “Better yet, let me do it. Slowly. With my teeth.”

“Troll.”

“Jezebel.”

A laugh fell from her lips. “That’s a new one.”

“A thesaurus is a wondrous thing. I should send a few back with Thor to be put in the Vault with the rest of Odin’s treasures.” He ghosted his fingers along her jawline. “It’s gorgeous, but alas. It’s only incredible, while _you,_ on the other hand, are divine.”

She laughed, a slight flush blooming beneath her collarbone. “High praise from a god.”

“Well,” he answered with a wink, “it just means I know what I’m talking about.”

***

By the time the intermission rolled around, Loki was more than ready. He slipped his suit coat back on and tucked her hand beneath his arm; the auditorium was cold, and she’d spent most of the first act with his jacket draped across her legs. They made a large circuit around the lobby, looking at the cheerful Christmas displays. As they strolled past one of the brightly decorated trees, she glanced up.

“And?”

He shrugged carefully, aware of the crowds swirling around him and doing his best to be diplomatic. “I've seen worse?”

A chuckle as she took a sip of cocoa. “Not what you're used to?”

“Does everyone survive?” he asked instead.

“I think so.”

He smiled as he accepted a cup of cider from the nattily-dressed woman behind the table. “Pity,” he sighed. “I was hoping for something a little more dramatic, but I suppose stylized violence and a poorly-disguised seduction allegory are the best a man can hope for at this time of year.”

She raised an eyebrow, and he scoffed gently as he snagged an eclair from one of the circulating waiters. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” he went on. His voice lightened into a near-falsetto. “Oh, my darling Clara! Thank you _ever_ so much for fighting my battles for me. What a _fright_ you’ve had. Feel free to conveniently swoon onto my bed - did I say bed? Sorry, I meant sleigh, oh don’t give me that look, it’s _clearly_ a sleigh now. Just relax, lie back and I’ll give you a tour of my ‘kingdom’ as a reward. Norns, can you imagine if I’d tried that on _you_? I’d have gotten a size seven to the shins for my trouble. I thought this was a children’s play.”

“All ages,” she responded, covering a delicate snort with a bite of her own eclair, “and don’t act so shocked; I saw your face while I was trying to clean you up after New York. It might not have been immediately after the dust settled, but you can’t tell me you weren’t three seconds from a post-battle throwdown right there in the infirmary.”

He shrugged. “Guilty as charged,” he answered, “but I’ll thank you to notice I _didn’t_ act on what amounts to several centuries of ingrained habit, and I _cer_ tainly didn’t write a ballet about it afterward.”

“So you _claim_.”

“It would have been a musical, in any case. I’d have hired Parker for the choreography.”

She laughed a little; around them, the lights dimmed and rose again to signal the end of the intermission. “We don’t need to stick around, you know. We can always duck out early.”

“I’d never hear the end of it,” he said. “Besides, I’m curious to see how it all plays out, and this way, when Parker quizzes me once we get back tonight, I’ll be able to answer without cheating.”

***

The mansion was still buzzing with activity when they returned a few hours later, the tree in the living room blazed with lights. Rogers looked up from his sketchpad in surprise when they walked in, and then a smile lit his face.

“Didn’t expect to see you back tonight,” he said, closing the book carefully. “We did save you some dinner, though, if you’re hungry.”

“Desperately,” Aeslin admitted. “We didn’t stay for the reception afterward. _Some_ body was getting cranky.”

“Two guesses as to who that was,” Loki supplied as he abandoned his jacket on the couch next to hers. “And your first one probably doesn’t count.”

Rogers chuckled as he led them back toward the kitchen; Loki tugged off his tie as he went, hanging it on the back of one of the chairs at the island. Aeslin took off her heels and dropped them to the floor beneath her.

“What did you think?” Rogers asked as he busied himself with dishes and silverware.

“Let me put it this way,” Loki replied, taking the bowl of pasta Steve handed him. “I’ll never be able to look at fruitcake in the same way again.”

***

Aeslin was gone when he awoke the next morning; a pair of slightly disturbing dreams the night before meant that Loki had a moment of panic until he heard her rummaging around in the next room. She appeared a moment later, wrapped in his hoodie and carrying a fairly small package; as she looked at him, though, her brow furrowed slightly. Setting the box down on the nightstand, she sat on the edge of the bed, reaching forward and brushing a lock of hair from his cheek.

“Are you all right?”

“Better now,” he answered, pushing himself to a sitting position. He was rewarded by a small, knowing smile, and he glanced past her at the box she’d put down. “Who’s that for?”

“You, silly boy.” She climbed further onto the bed, braid tumbling down her back as she adjusted the too-large hoodie she’d pulled on over her boyshorts and _Mordor Fun Run_ tank top. Tucking her legs under her, she leaned back a little and picked up the package once more.

He dusted his fingers along her leg and to her hip, giving her a stern look. “I thought there was a rule. No presents.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” she replied, casually smoothing her fingers down the line of goosebumps he’d raised on her skin. “And in my defense, I broke the rule before there _was_ a rule. So.” She put the box carefully on the comforter between them. “Merry Christmas. Solstice. Happy Solstice… mas.” She sighed. “You know what I mean. Open it.”

Loki untied the ribbons and set them aside; he gingerly lifted one seam of the shimmering green wrapping paper, then another. She let out a theatrical sigh.

“I knew you’d be one of those. I _knew_ it.”

He grinned as he re-tied the ribbons around the end of her braid. Sweeping the rest of the paper off the package with a flourish, he tossed it behind him to flutter to the floor. He lifted the lid of the plain cardboard box, shifted the tissue paper and looked inside.

The small chest was barely large enough to cover both his palms. It was intricately worked, and the smooth, polished wood seemed to glow with its own warm light. He pulled the box gently free of the paper and stroked his fingers softly along the delicate carvings of branches and roots that spread across the lid and down the front. Knotwork spiraled around the base of the chest, weaving in and out of the tree. A small, curved twig, little more than a thorn, served as a latch. Scattered among the boughs were tiny jewels, each a different color, and Loki had barely started counting them before he realized he already knew how many there were.

“Norns,” he managed after a long moment. “It’s even ash.”

She smiled. “What sort of a historian would I be if it weren’t?” She looked down at her hands as though suddenly nervous. “I wasn’t sure,” she said quietly. “But I thought… it’s not just Asgard, right? It’s all of them. All of _us_. I thought it would be okay.”

He puffed out a wisp of air as he tried to open a latch that blurred and danced in his vision. “More than okay,” he confirmed as the twig slid free of its hasp. Inside was a neat collection of cards; the dividers that separated them were written in her distinctive calligraphy. He blinked as he looked up at her.

“You can put whatever you’d like in it,” she explained, “but for right now, it’s a recipe box. It’s a way of showing how far you’ve come in the last year. You’re not the same guy who caught an entire batch of pancakes on fire when I left him alone for five minutes last January. I mean, you are, but you’re not. You’ve grown. You’ve adapted. This is just sort of a way to celebrate that.” She seemed to take his silence as permission to continue, so she leaned forward a little, looking into the box as well.

“Everyone submitted something, but some sections are bigger than others. I think Nat gave more than anyone, but you can look. They’re organized by contributor, not recipe.”

Loki tipped the divider marked _Barton_ forward, extracting the cards behind it. He studied them for a second, then held them up.

“These are coupons for Cap’n Crunch.”

A cheerful smile lit her face. “Well, you can’t win ‘em all, but look! Buy three boxes, get a gallon of milk free, and they don’t even expire until June.” A light chuckle as he put them back. “Tony’s is almost as bad. It’s just a list of catering companies with notes on what they do best. You’ve got your own section, too. All the things you’ve taught yourself, up to and including the krakens. Rhodes copied the recipe while you were doing something else.”

He shut the lid with a grin, slipping the latch closed. “It’s perfect,” he told her. “I _love_ it, and I have no idea what else I could put in it. Not with all these treasures already inside.”

“I’m glad,” she told him. “Merry Christmas. Solstice. Happy Solstic- no, it doesn’t sound any better this time around. You know what? It doesn’t matter. I love you.”

“Happy Solsticemas,” he replied with a grin. “And I love you back.”

***

They sprinted across the chilly lawn; he’d thrown on jeans, a t-shirt and his other hoodie. She’d put on a pair of plaid pajama pants, grabbed one of her new pairs of socks and called it good. Slipping through the glass door that led into the main area, they made their way rapidly to the kitchen. It was well past nine, and both were starving. They were greeted immediately by Natasha, not a hair out of place and with the apron Tony and Parker had gotten her tied neatly around her waist. It was everything Parker had promised: black with ruffles, a violently pink bow along the lower hem and what appeared to be extra pockets just wide enough for your average kitchen knife. Loki nodded his approval, then sniffed gently.

“What’s baking?”

“Kolaches,” she responded. “They’ll be ready in just a bit, so if you can hold off for a while longer, Christmas brunch will be on its way in no time.”

“Kolaches.” He repeated the unfamiliar word as he peeked through the oven’s window. “Don’t think that one’s in my box.”

“That’s because you’ve got to earn this one, _tigryenok_.” She leaned down next to him, casting a critical eye on the baking pastries. “I don’t hand it out to just anybody. Figure out all the others first, and then maybe we’ll talk. _May_ be.”

He smiled as he straightened. “It’s a deal.”

***

 _It is early evening when his brother returns, sooner than expected and with his_ _Goblin’s Teeth_ _set in his arms. He is bursting with news, Loki can tell, but he keeps it to himself far into the night. The others have watched them play here and there, but it is clear that the brothers are hoarding the precious time they have with each other, and after a while, they are left to themselves. They are well into their fourth round of the game before Thor speaks of home._

_Thor makes his moves with his customary mix of thought, flair and brash action. Briefly considering the board, he flips one of the hourglasses and switches three pieces in rapid succession._

_“I found him.”_

_Loki abandons his own strategy for the moment. “And?”_

_“He’ll do it, for a price.”_

_“I’d expect no less,” Loki observes, taking a pull from the bottle at his elbow. “What is it?”_

_“A fortnight, and a trade. I’ve told him of your current endeavors. He wants one. He doesn’t much care what’s inside it; in his own words, he merely wants a piece as unique as its creator. A fair exchange, as it were, and he was very specific that he wants something_ distinctly _Midgardian. Something no one else will have.”_

_“So no eddas, then. Probably no fairy tales, either.”_

_“Agreed.”_

_“What does he mean by a fortnight, though? You did tell him I can’t deliver it personally, I hope?”_

_“Aye,” says his brother, “I did, and he agreed that I can act as a go-between.”_

_“That’s decent of him. Using Odin’s heir as his personal delivery boy must be_ hideously _demeaning for him.”_

_A deep laugh from his brother. “He’ll survive the shame, I’m sure. I, on the other hand…” he trails off with a grin to give lie to his words. “The fortnight is for him,” he went on. “He’ll have what you need by then.”_

_Loki sits back a little, impressed. “That’s not a lot of time.”_

_Thor shrugs as he pokes through the bowl of nuts on the table. “Well, the way he tells it, he’s bored out of his mind. He’s old. It’s winter. A few nights near the forges will do wonders for his aching bones, you know.”_

_“And you believe him.”_

_Another laugh. “Almost. Do you?”_

_“Barely. Did he give any indication of when he’d like his payment?”_

_“You’re to take your time,” Thor replies. “He knows you’ve other things that concern you, and he wants it done properly. He’s in no rush.” A jog of memory crosses his face, and Thor reaches into his pocket, pulling out a soft leather bag. “He sent these along just in case you might want to use them. Thought it might give you a bit of inspiration.”_

_Loki upends the bag; the gems that fall out onto his palm, though unfamiliar on this realm, could easily buy Stark’s mansion and everything in it, with more than enough left over. They glitter and swirl against the pale skin of his hand: indigo, onyx and deep, glittering red. He smiles slowly as he shifts his fingers; the stones catch the light, swallowing and reflecting it in turn._

_“Oh, yes,” he says, designs already coalescing, eagerly tumbling over themselves in the back of his mind. “I know_ just _what to do with these.”_

_“Excellent,” his brother replies with an answering grin. He finishes his drink as Loki replaces the jewels and tucks the bag safely away. “Now, if I’m not mistaken, I believe it’s your turn.”_

_***_

 

a/n: once again, i can't make the links work in the notes. please enjoy [this](http://toriavey.com/toris-kitchen/2013/08/kolache/) kolache recipe i found on the interwebs. (they look awesome. i'll take a dozen.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tigryenok: tiger, a russian term of endearment.
> 
> Feedback appreciated. I hope you liked this one! It took on a life of its own, and I'm very glad. It's kept me giggling through some rough times. Love you all!

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by the merjestical Xogs. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> As a bit of housekeeping: there will be this (multi-chapter) one shot, then another, and then I will be taking a brief hiatus while I start devoting my time to writing the sequel, which has (finally!) taken shape. Hopefully I'll start getting it posted by the beginning of November, but it might be later than that. But fear not! I shall not let you down!
> 
> If'n (after the one shots are done) there's anything else you'd like to see, feel free to ask! I may be able to bust you out a little somethin' somethin' if the stars are properly aligned. Ask me here or on Tumblr. (i'm sweetmauleymalloy). :)


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